A Dirty Mind
by dragontattoo75
Summary: Stiles has a dirty, dirty mind so Danny tells him, making it clear, that their relationship is over. Stiles' wishes are not normal, not something Danny can be a part of. But not even Stiles himself knows just how dirty his imagination can be until the day he meets Derek. Written for the Perverse-Bang Fest on LJ.


Title: A Dirty Mind

Creator: dragontattoo75

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Stiles/Derek

Work Type: Fic

Word Count: 7850

Work URL:

Summary: Stiles has a dirty, dirty mind so Danny tells him, making it clear, that their relationship is over. Stiles' wishes are not normal, not something Danny can be a part of. But not even Stiles himself knows just how dirty his imagination can be until the day he meets Derek. Written for the Perverse-Bang Fest on LJ.

Prompt: Based on this prompt (replace 'dot' with an actual dot and take out the spaces): perverse-bang dot livejournal dot com/939 dot html?thread=17323#t17323

Perversities: Anal Fixation, Dirty Imagination, Secret Fantasies, Anal Play (Rimming, Fingering, Felching, Shaving, Enema, Come Play, Butt Plugs), Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Video Shooting.

Warnings: Male Slash, Barebacking, Vulnerability/Fear of Rejection.

Author Notes: Thank you karenec and nmydreamz for pre-reading, and Sue273 for betaing. Much love to BregoMellonNin for being a wonderful writing partner and friend, and to 35nanou for endless support. I don't own Teen Wolf. No copyright infringement intended.

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**A Dirty Mind**

Stiles has a dirty, dirty mind.

So Danny tells him in no uncertain terms, making it clear, that their relationship is over and their future together nonexistent. Stiles' wishes are not normal; it's not something Danny can be a part of.

After Danny, Stiles stops telling his partners what he really wants, but not even Stiles himself knows just how dirty his imagination can be until the day he meets Derek.

Derek is the most attractive guy Stiles has ever laid his eyes upon, including anyone he'd ever seen during his extensive porn watching career. Derek's gorgeous white smile, stunning green eyes and mouth-watering body make Stiles' secret fantasies skyrocket into the stratosphere. Trying to keep his distance, it isn't until Stiles gets his first ever 'B' from the professor that he realizes he needs to do something about his obsession with this man.

Stiles prides himself on being a fairly intelligent human being. The vulnerable position he placed himself in with Danny quickly made him understand that others are not comfortable with the level of filth his mind can reach. Sharing what he really wants with Derek is not an option, not when Stiles won him over with surprisingly little effort.

Not even when they're in bed—asDerek's gaze bores lovingly into Stiles while he fucks him into the mattress with agonizing slowness—does Stiles tell him what he's thinking. No, he keeps his lips pressed together, not letting a syllable slip through them. It's the most difficult thing he's ever done, keeping his deepest longing from Derek, but Stiles knows the consequences. He's learned his lesson.

Weeks, months pass, and it's nearly a year into their relationship when one day, as they're cuddling after a tumble in the hay, Derek quietly voices, "You're not satisfied."

Stiles' heart jumps in his chest, his breathing erratic while he panics and flails around in Derek's bed, but Derek grabs him, holding him tight and secure against his chest. Eventually, after trying to free himself from the grip and losing, Stiles gives in, relaxing his whole body into Derek's muscular arms.

Derek mumbles in his ear, "That's it, I'll take care of you."

Derek makes soothing circles on Stiles' back, drawing patterns existing only in his mind while Stiles' thoughts race around in his own head.

Stiles trusts Derek, and he knows they both love each other deeply. He wants to spend the rest of his life with this man, his partner through thick and thin, until death do they part. In Stiles' mind, there is no alternative. He would not risk losing Derek, to go through yet another, more difficult break-up simply because he sometimes wanted something different—something others _didn't _want—things that are dirty and utterly filthy. He'd rather live his whole life _without _the potential satisfaction he would receive instead of risking the loss of Derek's love.

It's not like he's ever had a chance to try it with a partner himself. He's only seen it done by actors; porn stars getting paid to pretend they like it. But the way it's settled itself into his mind, spread among his brain cells like dark matter coloring his soul, it's irrevocably made itself a part of him.

Stiles turns his face up to Derek, sees his warm smile and raised eyebrows encouraging him to go on, to spill his secret. _Let Derek take care of your need. Let me satisfy you._

Stiles opens his mouth, waiting for the words to come, but there is nothing.

Derek's eyes zero in on his mouth, looking expectant at first, but then disappointed when no words are spoken.

Stiles tightens up at the look on his boyfriend's face, preparing to defend himself and fight for what they have together, but nothing more happens than Derek holding him, sighing against Stiles' hair after kissing it.

Stiles needs to convince Derek there's nothing lacking in his life. Nothing more Stiles could need but what they already have, so he presses it down. To keep Derek.

They have an argument over something really small and stupid. A misunderstanding, really.

"I can't believe you looked at Jackson's ass when I was sitting right next to you!" Derek grumbles, his teeth gnashing in frustration.

Stiles presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "For the last time, I didn't look at his ass! I don't like Jackson, I love _you_!"

"Well, obviously not enough to tell me your secret!" Derek snaps. Stiles gapes at him, taken aback to be smacked in his face in an argument. Before he says something he knows he'll regret, he marches out, slamming the door behind him hard in frustration, almost ripping it off the hinges.

Striding back and forth in Derek's front yard, Stiles can't believe it's come to this. Why can't he have a poker face and lie through his teeth? Whether he confesses or denies, he'll lose Derek. There is no way of winning.

Derek seems to have finally forgotten all about it, until one day Stiles is on his elbows and knees in Derek's bed, his face smashed into the pillow and his boyfriend's fingers preparing him for what feels like an eternity. Stiles is desperate in the end, begging Derek to fucking finally put his cock in and give him what he needs.

Then Derek says in a low tone, "Not until you give _me_ what I want and confess."

It's no surprise to Stiles that Derek is capable of using sex against him. His boyfriend is a man who knows what he wants and never gives up, professionally and privately. Stiles pinches his lips together, trying desperately to display his ass for Derek to take, but gets only a slap and a denial.

"No!"

Stiles has almost lost hope of one day fulfilling his secret fantasy with an understanding boyfriend. Somehow there must be a tiny bit of doubt, unknown to Stiles and buried deep down in his mind, because at last he confesses. "Ungh, I want your fucking ass, okay?"

Derek doesn't push his cock into him like Stiles needs, no; his fingers stop right at the rim of Stiles' ring of muscle instead, only going inside again when Stiles fucks himself upon them.

Groaning, Stiles whines, "Oh, come on, Der! I've said it! Now, get on with it, will you?"

Derek absentmindedly strokes over Stiles' shoulders and down to the small of his back. "It doesn't make any sense," he muses. "_That _was your secret? No, there has to be more. Tell me!" He slowly pushes his fingers into Stiles again, too slowly for someone who's been on the brink of coming for ages.

The whimper coming out of Stiles' mouth sounds like something he never thought he'd be able to produce, like an animal in pain, and he finally starts babbling, letting his mouth do what it really wants.

"Oh fuck, Der! I have all these things I want to do to your ass, things no one else would want and ... oh fuck, now you're going to leave me, just like Danny!"

Stiles' shaking legs collapse under him and he falls onto his stomach, sobbing into the pillow which smells so strongly of Derek.

His mind's in overdrive; tired from keeping his thoughts a secret for so long, frustration for not coming, and finally, resignation—Derek's going to judge him, and their relationship will be over.

One thing is clear to Stiles though; losing Derek will be the hardest thing to ever happen to him in his whole life.

Time ceases to have meaning. Stiles is crushed into what feels like beyond repair when the mattress dips and he hears Derek's voice beside him. "Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?"

It takes a while for the words to sink through the fog in Stiles' head before he realizes this was not what he imagined he'd be hearing. He lifts his too-heavy head up, croaking, "Huh?"

Derek's sitting on the side of the bed, still naked, watching Stiles with a carefully blank expression.

"Will you sit up, please, and explain to me what this is all about?"

Stiles scrambles up on his knees to face his probably ex-boyfriend—but Derek hasn't run away yet, so could there still be a tiny chance for Stiles? If he finds the right words, giving Derek a part of the truth, something sounding just a little bit kinky, is there a possibility he'll get away with it?

A seed of hope forms in his chest, and he sits a little straighter.

"I know you like being in charge," he begins slowly, his voice raw. "One of the things I find the most attractive about you is the way you boss me around in bed. You know I really, really like it when you fuck me, preferably hard."

Derek cocks an eyebrow. Stiles cannot and probably never will get over how hot his boyfriend is. He must do his best to explain it the right way. He swallows, trying to soothe his dry throat.

"But?" Derek questions.

"Well, it's just a _thing_, really, nothing big at all, but you've blown it out of proportion."

"It's something important to you, though," Derek observes, staring intently at Stiles who can no longer hold his boyfriend's gaze.

"I've had a bad experience with bringing it up."

"I'm not him," Derek says, irritated, clearly not wanting to be compared to or to think about Stiles' previous boyfriend.

Stiles' gaze snaps up and he leans towards him, eager to stroke him by the hair. "No, no! Of course not!"

"Then what is it?" Derek demands.

Stiles blurts out, "I love your ass, okay? I want to show you how much, play with it, do things with it and … " he tries to find the best words, "I'm afraid you don't want me to. You like to have all the control, so ... " he trails off, twisting his fingers in his lap. Stiles would give anything to put his hands on _Derek _instead, or have his boyfriend's arms around him.

He shivers, feeling so cold, anxious, and wound tight as he bows his head, waiting for Derek to speak.

Finally, Derek clears his voice, saying, "Well, I've had my ass played with before. If you want it so badly, it's not something I'd deny you."

Stiles looks up quickly. "Really?"

"Yes."

Stiles falls into Derek, but his boyfriend grabs him in time, and then they are kissing.

Stiles is desperate to please Derek, give him anything—he just wants to keep him. He climbs up in his lap and Derek falls onto the mattress on his back with Stiles on top, laughing into Derek's mouth. "I love you! I love you!"

Derek smiles, too, making it hard for Stiles to kiss him properly, but Stiles grinds his soft cock against his boyfriend's amazing abs, groaning at the friction before he slides down to the floor and sits between Derek's legs.

There it is. Derek's magnificent cock. Lying against his thigh, soft but still fat and veiny. Stiles finally feels his mouth water and grabs the precious thing, wanting to worship Derek's body to give him as much pleasure as possible.

He glances up at Derek, who has lifted himself up on his forearms, his dark green eyes staring intently from his face down at Stiles' hand, holding his cock.

"Are you going to get down to business or just sit there while I fuck myself in your grip?" Derek pushes his hips up once, showing Stiles his intent.

Stiles' mouth is suddenly dry again. His boyfriend fucking himself in Stiles' hand is a tempting option.

"Please, do it a little?" Stiles can't help but beg for it, the image is too enticing to let go.

Derek tightens his stomach and butt, pushing his cock up into Stiles fist—hard.

Stiles can't decide where to look: Derek's fabulous abs on full display, the pleasure showing on his face, or his cock growing in Stiles' hand, which is quickly becoming red and swollen as Derek fucks himself into it.

Stiles leans down to lick the tip, the full and almost purple head, alternating between showing and hiding itself in the skin surrounding it. It's tempting to just keep watching, but Stiles _needs _to lick the drop at the tip—clear, pearly, and so tempting.

He hums contently as he tastes the saltiness on his tongue.

"You like the way I taste?" Derek asks gruffly.

Stiles looks up to his boyfriend's face, sees his flushed skin and hooded eyes filled with anticipation, and it hits Stiles with surprising force. _He's _the one making Derek look like this. He's still his boyfriend; it's almost unbelievable.

Stiles wants another taste of Derek and leans down, maintaining their eye contact. "I fucking love it!"

He licks his lips, getting pre-come all over his mouth before sinking down on top of Derek's cock, over the swollen, red head and all the way down until dark pubes tickle his nose. He holds there for a second, making sure his mouth waters just like he wants it to before he leans back, his mouth full of spit. He's going to give his boyfriend a really wet, satisfying blowjob.

He sucks up, pressing his lips tight around Derek's cock on the upstroke and licking over the slit at the top before taking him all the way down again, holding it there. Derek starts bucking his hips, pushing his cock down Stiles' throat over and over. Stiles relaxes his muscles like he's learned to and breathes through his nose.

Drool runs from his mouth down Derek's cock into his pubes, making Stiles' face wet with his own spit. His mouth is anything but dry now. He eases up on sucking for a second, pushing two of his fingers inside his mouth alongside Derek's cock, drenching them before taking them out.

Here we go; his first attempt at meeting Derek's asshole.

He listens to Derek's groans and curses, realizing by the sounds he's making that Derek's close to coming. This is the best time to do it.

Stiles holds Derek's hips still with his hand, continuing the up and down motion on his boyfriend's cock himself, and pushes one of Derek's thighs out with his elbow, making room for his fingers to get to the promised land. Tentatively, he feels around the puckered flesh. Oh, he wishes he could see it, to observe closely what Derek looks like back there: the color, the skin and—oh, the smell!

Stiles' own cock is throbbing, hanging heavily between his legs as he's sure pre-come drips down on the carpet he's kneeling on. But his focus is all on his boyfriend, on trying to make it good for him and do his very best to make the experience a pleasurable one.

Derek's groans stutter as Stiles' wet finger circles at his opening, which is not very open at the moment and makes Stiles think Derek hasn't had much experience making the muscle loosen up at all. He must remember to ask his boyfriend about it later.

It's not wet enough back there with just the small amount of spit, so Stiles draws back his fingers, drenching them once more in his mouth. As he continues to bob up and down over Derek's cock, he detects the faintest taste of his boyfriend's asshole on his tongue. His own cock jerks between his legs as he moans around Derek.

Derek tries hard to push his hips up into Stiles' mouth, but Stiles keeps him in place with his arm. He finds Derek's hole once more, carefully squeezing one finger inside just up to the second joint, but it's enough for Derek to twitch and then he's coming—hard—into Stiles' willing mouth. Come pumps out of his boyfriend in streams, filling Stiles mouth to the brim, but he keeps bobbing and the come and his spit run together down Derek's cock, drenching his pubes completely.

Stiles holds his finger still inside of Derek's opening while he's coming, feeling the muscle clench under the spasms, and only retreats his finger and lets his boyfriend's cock go when Derek's muscles finally relax.

Stiles doesn't care about how sore his own throat is, all of his focus on Derek: his sweaty skin, gorgeous post-orgasmic face, and the pool of fluids covering his groin. But the best thing of all? Stiles' finger. He sits still until Derek blinks open his eyes, looking lazily up at Stiles, before Stiles shows him his hand.

Stiles' voice is raspy when he says, "This finger was just inside your tight asshole, Der. Do you know what I want to do with it?"

Derek stares at him for a second, drops of sweat on his forehead, before answering dryly, "I'm not sure I want to know."

Stiles croaks, anticipation filling him to the brink. "I'm going to show you."

Then he slowly leads his finger up to his nose, exhaling, and then inhaling as deeply as he can, letting Derek's scent invade him completely.

Stiles lets out a groan sounding like he's been punched in the stomach, holding Derek's gaze steady as he watches for his reaction. Derek doesn't look disgusted; a little unsure perhaps, but Stiles wonders if the wrinkle appearing at the side of his mouth could actually be curiosity.

"Fuck! You smell so good," Stiles says for emphasis, to make sure Derek knows just how much he likes it. "I want to see if you taste as good as you smell."

He licks at the tip of his finger, then sucks it into his mouth, humming with contentment as the flavor hits his sense of taste.

"God, Derek," Stiles groans hotly. "I want to lick your ass so badly, have my tongue right at the source of this." He can't help admitting it. His cock is_ throbbing_ with need, his head swimming with lust.

He finally pleads, "Please, Der, can I taste you there? Can I lick you? I promise to be gentle, to make you feel so good."

His eyebrows raised, Derek opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Eventually, he gives a curt nod and Stiles beams at him.

There might be a tiny smile tugging at the corner of Derek's mouth at Stiles' eagerness, but his face turns serious as soon as Stiles grabs under his knees.

"Place your feet on the mattress and use this under your hips." He hands Derek his huge pillow.

Derek sighs. "So demanding!"

Stiles quickly looks up at him, worried he's pushing Derek past his limit. Now that Stiles _finally _has him where he's dreamed about, he needs to remember to take things slowly.

Perhaps Derek sees the worry on his face, because he does what Stiles tells him, reassuring him dryly, "I'm kidding, Stiles."

Stiles swallows hard, taking in Derek's behind which is on full display in front of him. "Damn, Der," he breathes, "I want to play with you so bad."

"So get to it." Derek's voice is low.

Stiles glances up at him for a final confirmation as Derek gives him a curt nod.

"Holy hell!" Stiles mumbles to himself, "I can't decide where to begin!"

His hands are shaking as he starts by taking each of Derek's hairy cheeks in his hands, squeezing them, feeling their form. Derek works out a lot and Stiles thinks he's never touched a firmer butt in his life.

He strokes his thumbs over the dark hairs pointing towards the middle, where his gaze has settled before he pulls Derek's cheeks further apart to have the closest look at an asshole he's ever had. Gulping thickly, he makes lazy circles where the light colored skin turns dark pink.

Stiles leans in, takes a deep breath, and lets all of Derek's musky, forbidden scents fill him. As if his sense of smell was directly connected to his dick, he feels it throbbing between his legs.

He feels almost dizzy as he whispers, "I want to taste you."

Then Stiles licks him; his flat tongue lapping at Derek's behind from the bottom of the crack, over the hole and up to his balls. He smacks his lips to fill all of his mouth with his boyfriend's taste, making sure he gets as much out of the experience as possible.

Stiles looks up at Derek's face, uttering, "God damn." His boyfriend's bottom lip is red and swollen like he's chewed on it, his eyes glazed over. He sure doesn't look like he hates what Stiles is doing to him.

The muscle around Derek's hole is puckered and tight, unwilling to let more than half of Stiles' finger inside. He spits on his boyfriend's opening, which allows his finger to slip in easier than before, when he remembers the pool of liquid on Derek's groin.

Stiles straightens up, glancing quickly at Derek's face and sees he's still looking at him curiously. Stiles scoops up some of the fluid with his finger and smears it over Derek's hole.

"Mm, much better," Stiles mumbles as Derek's muscle lets Stiles' finger pass easily. He adds come over the hole until two fingers slide in like they were made for this purpose, pushing lazily in the beginning. The sight is so arousing, and combined with Derek's quicker breathing, it spurs on Stiles' movement.

He glances up at Derek's face frequently, making sure he's fine—and fine he looks! Leaning on his elbows, Derek's craning his neck in an attempt to watch what Stiles is doing, his pupils blown wide and face flushed. It's all nearly too much for Stiles; he's playing with his boyfriend's ass and they're _both_ loving it!

Stiles fills Derek's hole to the brink with spit and come, his two fingers finding room for three as he keeps pumping them in and out through the gradually loosening muscle. The movements make filthy noises, squelching with fluids, air, and heat.

"Fuck, I wish you could see this." Stiles' voice is so deep and strangled, he almost doesn't recognize himself. He's dizzy with want, making it hard to focus on his rhythm.

"Damn it! Don't stop!" Derek growls, his eyebrows furrowing when Stiles slows for a second.

"Oh! Oh yeah! I mean no," Stiles stutters, "No, I won't." He's so turned on right now, as he's never been before. Pumping his fingers harder into Derek, the filthy sounds and their moans make it impossible for Stiles to ignore his dick. It's such a relief when he grips around it, fucking into his hand, forcing him to curse loudly. "Fucking hell!"

"Are you touching yourself?" Derek groans.

"Yeah," Stiles breathes.

"Are you going to come on my ass?" Derek asks and when Stiles hurriedly nods, Derek demands, "Push against my gland!"

Remembering how it's done, Stiles presses his fingers upwards as he speeds up his jerking.

Derek's arms give out and he falls onto his back, his meaty cock instantly in his grip as he furiously works himself.

The sight of how surprisingly turned on Derek is makes Stiles come. He jerks forward against Derek's ass, spraying the side of the mattress with his white fluid as he tries his best to keep pumping his fingers at the right angle.

Derek gives his own cock a few more tugs before he's coming, too, the fluid jetting up like a fountain before splattering down on his body. Stiles gets some of it in his hair from where he's still panting over his boyfriend's ass, trying to catch his breath. Soon, he's able to climb up the bed beside Derek, draping his arm over his chest. He slides his arm under Stiles' head as Stiles snuggles against his armpit.

"Mmm," he purrs. "Had I known it would be like this, I'd have talked to you about it from the beginning."

Derek huffs, straightening his legs experimentally. "You need to get this off me."

"Ah, I can't lift my limbs," Stiles whines.

"Your mess, you clean it up."

"Well, technically it's mostly your spunk," Stiles points out.

Derek growls once as if saying, '_If you know what's good for you, you'll clean me up right away'._

"All right," Stiles groans, falling out of the bed to find a washcloth in the bathroom. He'll do whatever it takes to keep Derek. He's perfect.

When they're both clean, Stiles snuggles into Derek again, throwing his arm and leg over his boyfriend's sweaty body. Derek lifts his head up, placing a peck on Stiles' lips.

"Sleep now," he orders and Stiles sighs happily against Derek's neck.

Stiles is an hour too early when he arrives at Derek's, knocking once with no answer. He finds the spare key and enters the house, sitting down on the couch to wait for his boyfriend to get home. When there's a sound from the bedroom, he walks in on a naked Derek, standing with his back to him, a small bag in his hand.

"Hey," Stiles says, surprised, his eyes raking over Derek's gorgeous body.

Derek startles, spinning around, his cock half-hard between his legs.

Stiles gestures to it, his own dick reacting to the sight before him. "Starting without me?"

Derek scowls at him. "You're early," he states, walking into the bathroom. Stiles follows him inside, leaning against the doorframe as he eyes him.

"No hello kiss?" Stiles asks. "Could it be I caught you at a bad time?"

Derek shrugs, looking anywhere, then at Stiles.

"I totally did, didn't I?"

Stiles grabs the bag Derek's still holding. "What's this?"

Derek frowns at him, folding his impressive arms over his chest as Stiles curiously takes a peek in the bag and takes out a small, plastic bottle. His mouth falls open and he stares at his boyfriend.

"What?" Derek asks, annoyed.

"Were you...?" Stiles begins, but Derek's shifty expression stops him. "Of course, you were," Stiles says softly.

He fingers the white bottle in his hand, feeling the weight of it, considering the implications. "Derek? Can I . . . I mean, uhm . . . would you mind if . . . "

"You want to do it?" Derek asks, frowning.

Stiles swallowed hard. "Well, yeah, I do," he admits then quickly adds, "but I don't have to! I totally understand if you want to do it alone, no problem there!" He holds up his hands.

"Okay," Derek states.

"Come again?"

"I said, okay." Derek's ears are slightly pink.

Stiles beams at him. "I can? I'd love to do it! You wouldn't believe how much I've imagined doing things like this to you! But I don't want to be pushy ... you know, scare you away with my weird kinks."

Derek cocks one eyebrow.

"Okay, I want to push you a _little,_ but not too much!"

Both of Derek's eyebrows fly up.

"All right. You're not pushable, I get it," Stiles mumbles, resigned.

Derek turns to face the sink and holds onto it as he pushes his ass out for Stiles. He looks over his shoulder. "Like this?"

Stiles gulps thickly. "Yeah, that's fine." He places his hands on both his boyfriend's ass cheeks at once. "So, so fine."

Fondling his boyfriend's ass, Stiles' already half-hard cock thickens and he lets go of Derek's skin to pull off his suddenly uncomfortably tight jeans and reaches for the bottle, unscrewing the top. "Have you done this before?"

Derek shakes his head. "No, never needed it."

"All right," Stiles whispers, so grateful it's a need now. He caresses Derek's strong back, offering, "Do you want me to warm it up for you first? Keep it in warm water for a bit?"

"Just get on with it, Stiles."

He squeezes some of the liquid out through the top of the bottle, smearing it around the tip with his fingers, before he sits down on his knees and spreads Derek's ass cheeks with one hand.

"Fuck," Stiles mutters as he pushes his thumb over Derek's hole, lubricating his opening.

Sucking in a deep breath, Stiles mumbles to himself, "Good God, so hot." His hands tremble a little as he carefully pushes the tip inside Derek's tight entrance.

"Okay, it's inside. When I say squeeze, you do it as hard as you can, all right? You hold the liquid until you can't do it anymore, then you go... you know," he gestures to the toilet, "do your thing."

"Stiles, I know this," Derek snarls. Stiles understands his boyfriend feels embarrassed about this intimacy.

"All right." Stiles presses the bottle together gently with his fingertips, and holds it. "Squeeze," he says, and watches as Derek's muscle tightens around it, then slides the tip out, keeping the pressure on the bottle. He pats Derek on the back as he rises up. "Good! I'll be waiting right outside, then."

Stiles casts a glance back at Derek before he closes the door, noticing his ears are still pink.

As he sits on the bed, Stiles shifts around, not being able to think about anything other than his boyfriend's clean hole. They'll just have to cancel their dinner plans for tonight, because there is no way Stiles can go to a restaurant sporting the hard-on Derek has given him.

Stiles undresses himself completely, kicking off his underwear just as he hears the water run in the sink. Clenching and relaxing his fists, he sits down on the bed again, tugging at his cock absentmindedly. Then the door opens and Derek walks out, freezing as he sees Stiles sitting naked on his bed, dick hard against his stomach.

"No restaurant after all?" Derek smirks, scratching his chest as he strolls nonchalantly over to the bed.

Stiles shakes his head silently, taking in his boyfriend's form from his feet up to his eyes, where there's a heat Stiles didn't expect to see. His dick twitches in anticipation and he squeezes it to relieve some of the pressure. Derek follows the movement, eyes widening at the sight, and for the first time in their relationship, Stiles sees a vulnerable expression on Derek's face.

Stiles clears his voice, his mind racing to find the right words. "I can't believe you did this for me. For us." He stares vulnerably at Derek. "I ... I," he stutters, and for the first time since they've known each other, Stiles is the one lacking words.

Derek walks slowly over to stand in front of him, combing his fingers through Stiles' hair, gripping it to pull his head backwards, making eye contact. "Wanted it to be good for you," he says reluctantly.

Stiles whispers to correct him, "For us." And then Derek leans down, kissing him hard.

They fall back onto the bed, Derek between Stiles' legs, growling. "Still gonna fuck you later, though!"

Stiles grips his boyfriend's ass cheeks in his hands, pressing their crotches together, feeling the hairy skin under his hands. An idea hits him. "Mm, Derek?"

Derek grinds his hips against Stiles', grunting as their cocks rub against each other.

Stiles tries again to get his boyfriend's attention. "Derek, can I shave you?"

That causes Derek to still.

Stiles opens and closes his mouth several times before he finally blurts out his strained response. "I went way too far right now, didn't I? Shit, Der, just ignore me, please! I don't have to shave you at all! I love your hairy cheeks," he reassures, squeezing them and trying for a laugh.

Derek gets up, his face unreadable as Stiles pleads, frightened, "Say something, please?"

"Okay," Derek says lightly and strides off to the bathroom again. Stiles lies frozen, gaping after him.

Finally, when he hears Derek turn on the tap, he jumps up. "Don't start without me!"

Derek finds his kit—razor and shaving cream—and hands them both to Stiles, turning his back to him to place his foot on top of the toilet.

Stiles' heart is thundering in his chest. Holy God! Derek's willing to let him shave him!

His hands are shaking as he holds his hand under the jet to make sure the water is the right temperature, before spraying foam in his hand and reaching for Derek's ass.

Swallowing hard, his voice cracks as he asks, "You're really okay with this?"

Derek looks down at Stiles over his shoulder. "Yes, now get on with it."

Stiles smears his foam-covered fingers around Derek's cheeks in ample amounts. He bends down, pushing Derek's back forward to have a better view, and then he starts shaving.

Lots of black hair fills the drain by the time he's finished. Derek's ass is as smooth as a child's bottom and Stiles' dick as hard as steel.

"Fuck, yeah," Stiles breathes, his face inches away from his boyfriend's perfectly visible, red, puckered hole as he removes the last bit of foam with a washcloth. It's totally not a whine coming out of his mouth when he's says, "Derek! I need to taste you! Right now! Let's get into the bed!"

Derek puts down his foot, spinning around to see Stiles' turned-on expression, then down the rest of his body. If Derek was ever in doubt about the look on his boyfriend's face, Stiles' dick says it all. Looking up at Stiles again, Derek's face is full of wonder. "This really excites you," he states.

"Well, duh!" Stiles gestures to his dick, bursting and red. "If you want to have a conversation about this right now, you might as well give up straight away; I don't have any brain cells left."

Derek smirks at him. "All right, then." He walks over to the bed, gesturing to the mattress. "How do you want me?"

"Any way I can," Stiles mumbles, staring at Derek's behind.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him and gets up on his hands and knees, looking back at Stiles. "This fine?"

On wobbly legs, Stiles gets up on the mattress behind him, his hands on Derek's ass at once.

"Uhm, Der, I should probably rub one out immediately or else this will be no fun." Pre-come drips from the tip of his slit, and he wipes it off with a finger, sucking on it.

"You have the stamina of a teenager." Derek rolls his eyes, fondling his own cock and balls where they hang heavy towards the mattress.

Stiles grips his dick right away, tugging at it as he strokes over the warm skin on his boyfriend's back and down to his smooth asshole. Derek lays his head down on the pillow, resting on an elbow, his breathing quicker.

Stiles circles around the hole, studying how his boyfriend _really_ looks down there. He thinks about how it will feel pushing his dick inside, about the warmth and pressure as he imagines himself sliding in and out of the tightness, burying himself deep inside Derek.

It only takes a few pumps before he feels the familiar pressure in his balls and he's coming all over Derek's ass in long, white spurts, cursing and groaning.

Taking deep breaths to get back to the here and now, Stiles smears his come all over the smooth skin on Derek's behind, pushing a finger inside the tight hole. It glides in with ease, and he adds another one right away, feeling around inside where it's so warm and soft.

Playing with Derek's hole is more than Stiles ever imagined he'd get and he wants to savor the whole experience, until an idea suddenly hits him. This might be the only opportunity he gets, so why not see if he can preserve it?

"You're so hot like this, Der," he mumbles. "Do you know what would make it even hotter?" He doesn't wait for an answer, but says it before he chickens out. "If I recorded it."

Stiles holds himself completely still, eager to hear the answer and now trusting Derek to say no if he doesn't want to. He knows it's not like his boyfriend would ever agree to something he wouldn't want; he's a straightforward kinda guy.

"Okay," Derek says, just like that.

Stiles flails and has to grip Derek's leg to not fall off the bed. "Okay?" he squeaks. "Oh, God! Holy hell, I cannot believe it! This is the best day of my life," he mutters to himself.

Derek's back shakes with laughter and Stiles slaps him. "Fuck you. I'm excited, all right?"

"I can tell," Derek states dryly.

Stiles takes a deep breath. "Okay, okay, where do you keep your camera?"

"In the drawer, over there," Derek instructs, gesturing.

Stiles fumbles over on wobbly Bambi legs, finds the camera, but stresses when he discovers it's not charged. "Of course! The best day of my life and it's all ruined because of this!" he wails dramatically.

"Dammit, Stiles, just use the cord," Derek sighs.

"Ah, yes!" Stiles feels happy again and hurries to plug it in, checking how it works.

He places himself behind Derek, turning the camera on to record, and zooms in on Derek's hole immediately.

"We should totally put on some background music! Oh, never mind, I'll just add something later," he says, practically feeling Derek roll his eyes at him.

"Are you going to do something soon?" Derek asks impatiently, and Stiles takes the almost-dried come and smears it around his boyfriend's hole again, adding some spit to make it nice and slippery, then pushes two fingers in.

The camera almost falls out of Stiles' hand down onto the mattress as both of them groan loudly.

"Oh fuck, Der! You are the hottest thing ever. I cannot believe it!" A steady stream of babble spews out of Stiles' mouth as he plays with Derek's hole; three fingers in and his dick is _throbbing_! So is Derek's, it seems, from the way Stiles sees his hand working his cock between his legs.

"No!" Stiles demands, "I want to do that!" He extracts his fingers from Derek's hole, grabbing his cock and pulling it back between his legs before bending down to suck on the head. He alternates between licking Derek's hole and sucking at the tip of his dick until his boyfriend's legs start to tremble.

It's awkward recording it all, but Stiles doesn't mind. The sounds Derek makes and the glimpses Stiles receives say it all. This is truly the best day of his life; he will never have another fantasy to measure up to this. Ever.

Only ... hmm, perhaps one thing.

Derek's breathing is harsh as he pants into the pillow under his face, his cock so hard between his legs it makes it harder for Stiles to hold it back from his mouth. When Stiles notices Derek's balls squeezed up tight against his body, he can tell Derek isn't far from coming, and he stops for a second.

"Uhm, Der?"

"Fuck, Stiles! God dammit, don't stop!"

"I'm not stopping. I just thought about something."

"What now?" Derek sighs, irritated.

"What if I made this even better for you? For both of us?"

"How?" Derek grunts.

"What if I put my dick inside you instead of my fingers? Wouldn't that make it even better?"

"Fuck, Stiles!" There's a pause. "Ah, do it!"

"What?" Stiles can't believe his ears.

"I said do it! Just put it in me!"

It's an incredible achievement that Stiles manages to hold on to the camera, because, God dammit, this is the hottest thing ever!

Stiles' hand trembles when he grabs his own dick, zooming in with the camera in his other hand on his red, full head shining with pre-come, then turns the camera to Derek's hole as he places the tip of his cock against it.

Stiles is so happy he's already come once or else he'd spray Derek's hole white right this minute. Pressing lightly against the muscle, it gives in easily, having already been stimulated intensely.

Stiles pushes slowly, getting more and more of his blunt head inside Derek before the muscle gives in with a pop, and he's seated fully inside him.

Luckily, he remembers to ask Derek, "Are you all right?"

"Fuck yeah, move!"

Stiles pushes in further, feeling the warmth squeeze all around him, and it's the best feeling ever. Finally, he's balls deep inside his boyfriend and he retreats to slowly push back in, recording it all as he goes. His dick is coated with come and spit as he rocks back and forth, Derek's smooth hole gaping and constricting around his dick. He thrusts in harder. In. In. Soon he's fucking Derek in and out while Derek moans, urging him on, tugging at his own dick and showing Stiles he really likes it, making Stiles fuck him even harder.

Sweat is starting to drip down Stiles' face, and he has to wipe it off to keep the camera dry. Derek lifts himself up on his hands, and Stiles grips Derek's shoulder to have something to hold on to.

"Fuck, Derek, you're so Goddamn hot, taking my cock and my come. Are you close? Please tell me you're close! I can't hold off much longer! "

Then Derek's back is arching, his hand working himself furiously between his legs and he's swearing. "Fuck, yeah!" His hole is squeezing Stiles so hard as he's coming. Stiles pushes himself in for a last time before he can't hold back anymore and more of his come gets buried deep inside of his boyfriend.

Shuddering, Stiles lets the camera slip out of his hand. Luckily, it drops onto the mattress as he falls over Derek's back and they both end up in a heap, panting and sweating.

It takes a long time for them to come back to reality. Stiles feels like he's floating around in bliss, but then Derek rolls Stiles off his back and onto the mattress where they hold each other for a long time.

"Just, wow!" Stiles breathes against Derek's neck.

"Yeah," Derek mumbles.

"You all right?" Stiles asks.

"Mm hm," his boyfriend confirms.

Then Stiles remembers the camera and finds it on the mattress. "Oh, thank God, it didn't get destroyed. We're SO going to watch this together later!"

"I need a shower first," Derek says, rolling to the side, getting up.

"All right," Stiles agrees. He gets up, too, following his boyfriend to the bathroom where Derek turns on the water.

Stiles joins him, grabbing Derek's soap and the familiar scent of his boyfriend fills the small space. Stiles takes a deep breath and smiles. "Are you very sore?"

"I don't know yet," Derek says.

"Okay. Can I please wash you, then?" Stiles asks, his hand full with soap.

Derek looks at him, like he can't believe there is more Stiles could want from him.

"I'll let you wash me after." Stiles' voice is high.

Derek gives a quick jerk with his head.

Squeezing more soap into his hands, he starts with Derek's broad chest, moving down to his groin to wash around his balls, and pushes his boyfriend's foreskin back to wash around the head of his cock. "Turn around, please."

He continues with Derek's back, washing over his tattoo, down the small of his back and really carefully in between his ass cheeks. Derek flinches a little.

"Sorry," Stiles breathes. "Can you please bend down a little? I need to see if I did you any damage."

Derek looks at him over his shoulder. Stiles knows his boyfriend sees through him completely, knows it's just an excuse to have another look, but Derek bends at the waist. Stiles takes more soap, circles it around the cheeks and slowly, so carefully, over Derek's puffy, red hole.

"Oh, damn, Derek, you look so beautiful."

Stiles feels his dick start to swell yet again, but ignores it completely. He straightens up, handing Derek the soap. "Here, your turn."

Derek watches him. Slowly, he caresses all of Stiles' body and when he's done, Stiles dick is so hard again, it's throbbing. Derek slaps Stiles' ass, turning off the water.

"Fuck," Stiles says, squeezing his dick once, but let it be and takes the towel Derek hands him.

As he gets out of the shower, he feels a little woozy and takes an extra step to the side.

"It's time we eat something," Derek says. "I'll go order some Chinese."

"Sounds good," Stiles agrees. "I'll go look at the videotape in the meantime."

When Derek returns from his phone call, he finds Stiles lying on the bed, stroking his still fully hard cock as he watches the video. "Fuck Der, you need to come see this! We're not going to leave this bed until we have to!"

Derek laughs and walks over to the bed, joining his boyfriend.

.

**A few months later**

It's the first time Stiles gets to drive Derek's baby, the Camaro. Stiles is sitting at the very front of the car seat, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles whiten.

"Stiles, relax," Derek tries to soothe, but Stiles looks frantically over at him. The car swerves over to the side, but luckily, Derek grips the wheel, straightening them just in time.

"Jesus, Stiles!"

Stiles parks by the side of the road and Derek gets out, opening Stiles' door. "Get out!"

"Oh, thank God! I'm sorry, Derek, I just can't concentrate on driving right now!"

Back in their usual seats, Stiles tries to relax into it. "It's really hard, you know, trying to steer your precious car when all I can think about is your ass! I know it's not easy for you to sit down and all, but hello! I have this all over my thoughts, all right?" Stiles goes on and on.

All until they are there.

Derek parks the car and walks a little awkwardly beside Stiles to the front door of the house where there's a party already in full swing, music blasting through the windows.

"We'll see how long you last tonight," Derek smirks at him. "It's not me who's feeling jittery, even though it's me having this ... this _thing_ inside!"

"Oh, God! Keep reminding me of it and we'll just have to drive home again at once! Home to our bed!

"Relax! I'm sure we can find a room here if you can't stand it anymore," Derek soothes him, grinning.

Stiles finally relaxes against his boyfriend, beaming up at him. "All right! I can't wait to pull the plug out of you, seeing all of my come run from inside of you and down your thighs." He shudders as he sees Derek's pupils dilate.

"Fuck!" Stiles moans, grabbing Derek's hand and placing it at the front of his jeans, pressing against his hard-on.

"I can't wait for long!"

The door opens, and Derek smiles his widest grin at their host, grabbing Stiles by the arm. "Now come and socialize, be good, and we'll see how long you have to endure. If you're really good," Derek leans in to whisper in Stiles' ear, "I'll let you eat it out of me."

Stiles sways, face flushed and a ringing in his ears before he tightens his grip on Derek's hand as Derek's continuing to whisper filthy things into Stiles' ear.

"Oh, and Stiles, I've been meaning to tell you, too; you're not the only one with secret fantasies. You just wait until I tell you about mine!"

.

The End

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading!**


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